Laws of Marriage and Exes
by Sweetly Sarcastic
Summary: Hermione proposes to her ex to satisfy the Marriage Law. It goes... poorly. It doesn't help that her ex is Draco Malfoy.
1. Chapter 1

This little ficlet popped into my head starting with this scene. I fought with the ending a bit but I think you'll like where it goes :)

* * *

She approached the gate slowly. "Gryffindor courage," she reminded herself. She touched the gate cautiously. The wards still recognized her, at least. That was something.

She pushed the gate open and walked up the steps to the townhouse and knocked three times. She couldn't decide if she wanted him to be home or not.

His house elf opened the door. "Hellos, Mz Hermione," Ducky smiled. "I is happy to see you again. Master Draco is being happy to see you again too." Ducky hesitated. "But you is waiting here for Master Draco," she told Hermione. That was more of what Hermione had been expecting.

Ducky shut the door again and Hermione waited at the top of the steps.

Draco took his sweet time in coming to the door. She knew the townhouse well enough to know that whenever he could have been, it would not have taken seven minutes to get to the door. She hadn't intended to count. She hadn't wanted to know. But she did. And it didn't bode well.

He opened the door and leaned against the door frame. She hadn't seen him in three weeks and he was so bloody cocky but so handsome. He didn't seem any worse for the wear for their time apart. She knew she was. She wished she'd managed to cover the bags under his eyes before coming over. It didn't help her nerves that he still looked spectacular and knew it.

"Hello," he said, as if to a stranger. That killed her. "How are you?"

She was shaken by his nonchalance. She had imagined he would be happy to see her again, would sweep her up into his arms again and kiss her. She had feared he would shut the door in her face. But she had never once thought, best case or worst case, that she would encounter this much indifference.

"I'm fine, and you?" She asked, trying to match his tone.

"I'm great," he said, but his eyes flashed dangerously. "But you didn't just come by to ask about my day, did you?"

Merlin, he knew what she was going to do and he was already goading her about it. _Gryffindor courage_. She went for it anyway. "No, I didn't. I… well, you've heard about the marriage law."

He nodded. "I have."

He was going to force her to spell it all out, the bastard.

"I know things haven't been exactly easy between us lately," she said. That was one way to describe it. They had a row and hadn't spoken since and it had been three weeks. She was looking down at her shoes. "But technically, we qualify as a good match under the law. And I do still… I do have feelings for you. I think we were heading that way eventually anyway. And so I wanted to ask if you'd—"

"On one knee, Granger," he interrupted.

He shook her nerve. "What?" She asked.

"If you're going to propose to me, have the decency to do it properly, on one knee. I did. I deserve at least the same courtesy, I think," he was making fun of her and she couldn't tell if it was malicious or not.

"Fine." She regretted wearing a skirt. She struggled to get on one knee without flashing him—although maybe if she did this would go easier. "Draco Malfoy, would you marry me?" She finally asked.

"What a terrible proposal," he complained. "There were no declarations of an undying love that burns like a thousand suns. I think I deserve something a little more romantic."

She wondered if she could just reach out and grab his ankle and yank it out from under him to watch him fall. That would swipe the smug look off his face.

She felt her jaw clench but she forced herself to take a breath and smile. "Draco, there is no one else I would rather spend my life with. Please do me the great honor of marrying me."

The prat had the nerve to just shrug. "I'll think about it," he said, and then he shut the door in her face.

Sodding bastard.


	2. Chapter 2

"So you just rang the bell and said, 'will you marry me'?" Harry asked over his pint. "And you expected that to go well?"

She rolled her eyes. "It wasn't quite like that."

"In what ways?"

"Well, we said hello first."

"And then you just asked him to marry you?"

Hermione frowned. "Basically yes."

Harry laughed. "And you expected that to go well? You didn't ease into it."

"What's the point? Even if I had said, "I miss you, I think about you every day, I still love you," he would have known where it was leading." It would have felt like a betrayal of our relationship, she wanted to say. It would have felt like trying to cash in our love to fix this situation. But she couldn't tell Harry that. "He would have thought I was lying to get to the endpoint I wanted."

"So instead you got nowhere."

"Not _nowhere_ ," she corrected. "He said he'd think about."

"Right before he shut the door on you?" Harry clarified.

She grimaced. "Well, yes, right before he shut the door on me."

He laughed but then looked serious again. "What are you going to do, Hermione?"

What, indeed. The Marriage Law had snuck up on them quickly. It had only been announced a few days ago but required marriages to be made within three months. No exceptions. It had been clear: marry, leave, or have your wandsnapped at a public wizard shaming ceremony. It would have been comically antiquated if it weren't so terrifying. And infuriating. She'd fought to save the world and won and in thanks she was forced in marry within three months. She would have preferred a canned Halmark thank you note for her efforts.

"I'm not sure. I've started looking for jobs abroad as a backup. Anywhere in the EU would be ok. Australia would be easy. "

Harry paused a long moment. "You wouldn't consider," Hermione knew where this thought was going and involuntarily convulsed "trying for someone else?"

She wouldn't consider it. The thought of marrying someone else, even just to satisfy the Marriage Law, made her shudder. Made her feel physically ill. A month ago she would have just married Draco, with hardly a second thought. But then he'd asked and she hadn't been ready and now it was going to happen anyway. It was a great cosmic joke on her. The one bit of relief was that the _Prophet_ hadn't seen the proposal. She never would have lived through the publicity. Nor would have Rita Skeeter, she was sure.

"No, I wouldn't." She said. She didn't elaborate but threw the question back at him. "Would you, if you couldn't marry Ginny? If you weren't already married?"

Harry froze at that. "No, point taken."

It was a victory she didn't particularly want. "You can still visit all the time. Where ever I end up." She tried to sound more excited than she felt. She could end up on a great foreign beach in her dream job. She would not be on a waterlogged island anymore. It just happened that the waterlogged island was where all her friends and family were.

"He won't let it come to that," Harry tried to reassure. "I'm sure he still loves you. He's just upset about what happened."

Maybe Harry was right. But he hadn't seen the look on Draco's face.


	3. Chapter 3

She approached the gate slowly. "Gryffindor courage," she reminded herself once more. She touched the gate cautiously. He hadn't yet reset the wards. That was promising. Still.

The job search had gotten better than she expected. Apparently, despite the hoards of witches and wizards applying for jobs abroad, her resume had floated to the top and she'd received offers for positions in the ministries of France, America, Australia, and Iceland. She hadn't even applied to work in Iceland so that was interesting.

Worse come to worse, she could be watching the northern lights this time next year. That was something.

The offer in Australia was the most interesting but also wanted to hear back within a week and she'd have to start in a month. It was too fast. She been at this stoop only three days ago and hadn't heard anything from him since then. So here she was. Again.

This time when she rang, Draco himself opened the door.

He slumped against the door frame in his obnoxious, careless, handsome way. "Yes?"

His poker face was phenomenal. If he was feigning nonchalance to hide that he was still hurt, she couldn't tell. It rattled her.

"I wanted to talk with you," she hedged.

He raised an eyebrow. "You are."

She rolled her eyes. "Could I come in?"

He still wasn't smiling at her but stepped away from the door and retreated into his home. She caught the door before it shut and followed him. This was progress, at least. She had made it into the house.

He was in the drawing room pouring a finger of whiskey when she found him.

"Why are you here, Hermione?" He asked as he swirled the whiskey in his glass, eyeying the amber color. Damnit, she wanted a drink too.

She struggled to find the right words. She might never get another chance so she wanted to say it before she lost her nerve. "We haven't spoke in three weeks," she began.

"No, we haven't," he agreed, and took a sip of his whiskey. "That tends to be how it goes when a man proposes to a woman and she rejects him."

Fuck. It hurt, to hear it put that way. "That's not exactly what happened."

He cocked an eyebrow. "That is _exactly_ what happened," he corrected.

She shook her head. Who was she to tell him how to feel about what had happened? He had a right to his feelings. He wasn't _had_ said no. She had told him she loved him and she wasn't ready but one day she would be and technically, that was still a _no_. But it hurt, his version of events. It was too... to the point. "I didn't 'reject' you," she argued. "I just asked for more time. I loved you but I wasn't ready. And you haven't spoken to me since."

"You said that in the past tense," he suddenly.

This wasn't the response she expected. She was momentarily caught off-guard. "What?"

He persisted. "You said that you "loved me", in the past tense."

She shut her eyes. "I still love you, Draco. I wouldn't be here otherwise." He had to believe that. She tried to will it into him.

He did not accept her earnestness and he snorted. "To tell me to marry you ,or else you'll find someone else?"

She shook her head. It made him want to vomit even more, coming from him than it had coming from Harry. "I couldn't do that. Speaking to me or not, I still love you. I'm sorry about what happened. I understand if that's it for you, if you can't do this anymore, if you don't want to marry me anymore. But there's not anyone else for me. There will never be anyone else. If you don't want this, I'm not going to just marry myself off to anyone who will look twice at me. I have a job offer in Australia as my alternate plan." She paused. He was still looking into his glass and she didn't know what that meant.

She was so out of her element. She had always known how he was feeling. Happy, usually, but even when he was sad or angry or upset. And now she couldn't read him out all. Three weeks had lasted a lifetime. Her rejection had broken something between them and she didn't know how to fix it.

He wasn't saying anything so she kept going. "I know it's not fair to you. I know this doesn't seem genuine. But I do still love you. The law changed my timeline but not my feelings in general. You're it for me."

He dropped his whiskey and suddenly he was across the room. "You're not going to Australia," he snarled.

He didn't leave her time to ask another question or protest. He kissed her. Hard. It was all-consuming. It was teeth nibbling and tongues probing and fingers searching. It was moans and gasps and breathlessness. It was three weeks of pent up frustration and anger and love.

It was heaven.

His hands found their way to her bum and she was hopping and he was picking her up and they were stumbling to the couch because the bedroom was too damn far.

* * *

Reviews make me happy :)


	4. Chapter 4

She woke up in the middle of the night and had to pee. She shook him awake, despite his groanings, and made him go upstairs with her. She deposited him on his bed before retreating into his bathroom.

She used the loo quickly and then stared at herself in the mirror a moment. Her clothes were still scattered across the living room floor. She'd lost weight, a little, in the time they hadn't been speaking. She had love bites up and down her sides and on her neck. She looked thoroughly shagged. She _felt_ thoroughly shagged.

Her toothbrush was still by the sink. It nearly made her cry. She'd rejected his offer of marriage, hadn't spoken to him for weeks in the aftermath, and yet he'd endured seeing all the domestic reminders of her exactly as she had left them.

Her closet door was just on the left. She was apprehensive of opening the door but steeled her nerves. _Gryffindor courage._

Nothing had changed.

The closet, the "smaller" closet of the master suite, was still over half empty, with her clothes and a few shoes occupying just a corner. Draco had called it a linen closet the first time he had showed her and that had made her snort. It was bigger than her childhood bedroom. He had been storing his off-season clothes and his scuba suit ("they said it was a muggle suit" he had insisted "How was I to know it was just for watersports?") in the closet when they began dating. When things got serious, and she was spending most of her nights at his place, she insisted he make room for her. She had effectively wormed his way into his heart, his bed, and his closet.

They went back and forth on it for weeks before he moved his clothes down to the guestroom closet. They'd made love on the closet floor when he showed her.

The "linen closet" was that big.

Her party dresses were still lined up on their hangars. She had a few clothes folded on the shelves that hadn't been touched either. Her heels were still in the middle of the floor, where they'd landed haphazardly when she'd thrown them off in the middle of their last fight.

It had been three weeks and he hadn't let go.

She pulled her bathrobe of the hangar. It was Chinese silk, a gift from him after he'd visited Shanghai for business. It was the longest they had spent apart since they had begun dating. Until now.

They'd only been together three months when he left for two weeks. Honestly, she hadn't been sure how serious they were, how serious she wanted to be with him, even that far in. They were going slow. It still felt casual.

When he left it didn't feel casual anymore. His absence hit her hard and felt like a gaping hole in her chest. Twice she had to stop herself from trying to portkey to him, just to see his smug stupid face, just to hold him. It wasn't casual. He'd snuck into her heart with books and gentle teasing and soft kisses and she hadn't realized it was too late, her heart was all his, until he'd left the continent with it.

When he came back she was on him immediately. It'd be two weeks of aching and that was foreplay enough. They made love for the first time on her living room floor because they couldn't make it to her bedroom. He'd joked that if that was the kind of homecoming reception he got, he'd leave more often. But he never did.

She rummaged through her drawers and found her fuzzy socks. The bathroom tile was frigid and she instantly felt warmer. She padded back to the bedroom softly. She could tell that despite all his grumblings about being sleepy, he was still awake, waiting for her.

She batted his face with the sash of her bathrobe. "Hi," she whispered playfully.

He reached out suddenly and grabbed her hips and pulled her up onto the bed so she was straddling him. She leaned forward to kiss him and his hands massaged her hips a moment.

"Chinese silk robe and ratty fuzzy socks and no knickers," he whispered, enunciating his words with kisses to her cheeks and down her neck. "Such a sexy combination." He nibbled for a moment at the juncture of her neck and shoulder and she moaned.

"But I think I'd prefer you without the Chinese silk robe," he murmured and with deft fingers untied the sash and reached up to push it off her shoulders.


	5. Chapter 5

AN: I did re-title this story and re-do the summary. But it's still the same story :)

* * *

She woke up late the next morning and thanked Merlin it was Sunday. Thanked Merlin for a lot of things, actually. Including the blonde prat snoring softly beside her.

She was feeling exquisitely happy and decided to try her luck once more. She prodded him awake once more while peppering his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, with soft kisses.

"Draco," she sing-songed. "Where's my ring?"

He pulled the pillow over his face with one arm and pinched her bum lightly with the other. "Back in my bed one night and you're already after my gold?" He teased, still half asleep. "In my desk." With that he rolled over, his head cocooned in his pillow.

She smiled. He'd kept her toothbrush, her closet, her ring. She wasn't normally a girl for jewelry, but this particular piece meant a great deal. He'd been upset with her but held on to her nonetheless. It's like they'd just erased the last three weeks.

She threw the robe back on and practically skipped down the hall to his study.

* * *

It was in a tiny, perfect, black velvet box. She lost her breath a moment looking at just the box, concrete evidence that he had wanted her even before everything. Wanted her enough still to keep it.

She didn't open the box yet. She'd take it back up to him and let him put it on her when he finally deigned to wake up. He'd always been a night owl and impossible to wake before seven am. But he'd want that moment with her and she wouldn't take it from him.

There was a piece of paper snarled in the drawer just under the ring box. She wasn't one for snooping but she was very orderly and decided to pull it out and smooth it out. Perhaps she could set it in a book to smooth out the wrinkles.

And then she happened to read it.

* * *

Draco burst into a library moments later, his own robe haphazardly thrown over one arm and the sash trailing behind him like a tail.

"Hermione, don't—" he cut off short and paled.

She had read it twice and had to put it down on the desk because her hands were still shaking so badly. She was blinking back tears—at she didn't even know _what—_ when he had burst in.

"I did," she said quietly but matter-of-factly. "I already did."

He approached her slowly, trying to cover himself with the robe as he went. "Hermione, we should talk about this," he whispered.

She shook her head and felt the rest of her body shake. "I don't even know what to say to you right now." At that, she finally gasped out a sob and turned away from him. She couldn't look at him. She didn't even know him.

She stood on shaky legs. She needed to leave but she was still dressed only in her robe. She had clothes in his room and some still scattered across the parlor. She tried to leave but he blocked her path.

"We need to talk about this," he said. "Please. Hermione, please,"

She tried to get past him but he grabbed her and she fell against his chest. "Let go," she said, softly at first, and then she yelled. "Let go, Draco!"

He did but still stood between her and the exit.

" You knew," she accused. "You lied to me!"

He shook his head. "I never lied to you. I would _never_ lie to you. I just… omitted facts."

She didn't know if she should laugh or dry heave at that. "That is most disgusting technicality. You weren't _honest_ with me. You _knew_ about the marriage law and didn't say _anything_ for _weeks!"_

"I _couldn't_ ," he pleaded. "Blaise and I both would have gone to prison for a very, very long time if anyone knew he'd told me. It would have been _treason_."

"You could have trusted _me_ ," she insisted. "You _should_ have trusted me."

He shook his head. "Of course I trusted you, you stupid bint, but that's not the point!" He yelled.

"Then _what_!" She yelled back. She could feel a hot blush of anger rising up her neck. "What is "the _point"_!"

He looked torn. There was tension in his face and his hands spasmed. There was a long moment of silence between them.

"Do you remember your pregnancy scare?" He asked finally, quietly.

That caught her off-guard and she nearly fell back to the chair. He had momentarily stunned the anger in her. "Of course I do," she said. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Everything," he insisted. "Do you remember what you told me, after?"

She shook her head. "It was a blur."

He took a hesitant step towards her. "You told me it was better this way. You told me you knew I'd try to be honorable about it, to marry you before you had the baby, but that you'd always wonder, for the rest of your life, if it had been out of honor or love that I'd married you. And you didn't want to have to wonder."

She remembered. Gods, she remembered. They had been lying sleeplessly in bed after the strip had turned blue and she hadn't known what to feel. It was what she wanted. A baby. A husband. A closet. But not yet. She wasn't ready yet. He had asked if she was disappointed. And she hadn't known.

He took another hesitant step towards her. "I didn't want you to have to wonder," he whispered. "I wanted to you know, for the rest of your life, I'd married you for love." He closed the final distance between them and caught her. She folded into his chest without protest.

"When Blaise wrote me about the marriage law, I knew I'd have to be fast, or you'd spent the rest of your life wondering if it was out of love or convenience. I already had the bloody ring. But I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to wonder."

She had begun crying in earnest, her tears soaking through his silk robe to his chest.

"I have to go," she whimpered and pulled away. He caught the edges of her robe but she stumbled out of reach.

She wiped her eyes on her sleeves and even with blurry vision she could see him breaking in front of her. She was struggling to stay on her feet.

Clothes be damned, she apparated in just her robe.


	6. Chapter 6

Harry topped off the tea with rum in all the mugs. He didn't know when he'd become a girl friend, drinking booze and gossiping about boys, but it suddenly appeared to him that he'd become Hermione's girl friend as much as her wife was.

When she'd appeared on their steps, crying and essentially naked, Ginny had retreated upstairs with her, to find proper clothes, and Harry had assumed that left him the role of the protective best friend to go and beat the shite out of the man who had obviously broken her heart. He was sliding his wand into his sleeve when Ginny had come down and merely barked "Well? Can't you at least make a cuppa?"

She left Hermione upstairs, showering off, and talked to Harry in low voices with the kitchen door shut.

Harry was livid. "What did he do to her?" He asked. "Did she say?"

Ginny put a hand on his arm. "Shh, no I don't think it's like that. I thought that at first too. If he had hurt her—" Ginny broke off with a tremble. "But I think they got back together last night. _Consensually_. And then had an argument this morning. I think she was naked by happenstance, not by nature of the argument." The softened Harry's rage. His best friend showing up naked and sobbing still made him want to maim Malfoy, but less so. Maybe he'd leave him with most of his limbs.

And then Hermione had ambled downstairs, the tear stains scrubbed off of her cheeks, and they had settled down at the table for tea.

And so here they were, drinking tea laced with rum and listening to the latest terrible thing Malfoy had done. It was probably safer for Harry, but also, a little emasculating.

But Ginny didn't understand. "Technically he didn't lie," she said finally. "It was… almost sweet."

Hermione rolled her eyes and poured more rum into her tea. "He wasn't exactly forthcoming with the truth. It was dishonest. How do you start a life with someone built on sterling optimisms like "technically he didn't lie"?

"The start is not the foundation," Ginny said, and stole a look at Harry. "The foundation of a relationship is so much more than that. You two have been together for a year and a half. That's your foundation." Ginny shrugged. "Besides, it's still a better foundation than "hey, there's this law that says I have to get married and you would work, wanna get hitched?""

" _Ginny_ ," Harry admonished.

Ginny shrugged. "It's true."

"That's easy enough for you to say," Hermione scowled. "You're already married to the love of your life. The law wouldn't ever impact you."

"There's still Australia," Harry said. "You still have time on that offer. We'd miss you, we'd hate for you to leave, but you shouldn't rush into anything, with him or anyone else."

She nodded. "There's still Australia," she repeated hollowly.

Ginny's face soured. "Hermione, don't leave the country. You love him. He loves you. You know he's the one for you. You _both_ have made some miststeps. Don't be so stubborn about it."

" _Ginny_ ," Harry hissed again.

"He didn't lie to you to hurt you. He lied to you so he _wouldn't_ hurt you. It's stupid and convoluted but it's true and you know it. He wouldn't lie to you for the sake of it. Be upset with him for a while. Check his mail now if you need to. But let yourself love him again. Don't move to Australia. Don't be a stubborn bloody idiot about this."

" _Ginny, enough_ ," Harry whispered.

But Ginny looked at Hermione with bright eyes. "Hermione, I swear to god, if you move to Australia I would never talk to you again. You two can figure this out after you're married. But you don't have time and you both know you want to be. Get over it enough to let yourself be happy. "

Hermione took another long swig of the rum tea and stood and swayed a little of her feet. This was not the support she expected but she knew her friend was probably right. Damn her.

"I just-" she just what. She didn't know. For two years he'd been throwing her for loops, first in asking her out, and then in actually dating her, and loving her, and being so good. So, so good. He'd taken her wholly by surprise. There had always been something in the back of her mind that had told her not to trust it. Told her she was dreaming, she was delusional, she was being fooled. That little something in the back of her mind had finally found its proof. But the proof was wrapped up in a bigger truth, that he loved her, that he'd do anything for her.

Fucking hell. And she'd been smashing that love with all the grace and tact of bull in a china shop for weeks now.

She took another swig of tea. It was mostly rum at this point. . "I'm going to go. I'll, um, return the clothes later, yeah?"

She disapparated without warning once more.


	7. Chapter 7

She approached the gate on unsteady feet. "Gryffindor courage," she slurred once more. She touched the gate with confidence. Bloody bastard would probably never change his wards.

She stomped up his steps and banged on his door. Merlin, she had had too much rum tea on an empty stomach.

When he answered the door, at first he thought she was on one knee, proposing to him once more. And then he realized she was just puking into his hydrangeas.

* * *

"I've always hated those hydrangeas anyway," he said when they had sat down at his kitchen table. Her stomach was still churning from the rum and apparation. She let her head fall into the table, feeling both sick and embarrassed.

"I see you found someone else's clothes," he said as he put some bread in front of her. "Eat that."

She nodded and sat up on her elbows enough to manage a bite. "Ginny's." She said.

"You went there?" He said, with mild interest. "And Potter didn't barge in to disembowel me?"

She shook her head. "No, he's become a girl friend. I'd go to Bill if I wanted someone to disembowel you. Charlie, if I wanted someone to barbecue you in your sleep in an accidental dragon mishap."

He raised an eyebrow. "I'll know to run if I see either."

"By the time you'd see them, it'd be too late."

"I see," he was fighting a smile. Only two hours ago things had been much tenser between them and he wanted to enjoy it, but he wanted to know where it was going. "And what would you send yourself here for?" He probed.

"Just to puke in your hydrangeas and eat your bread," she said. "You always have the best French bread. I've begun to suspect you kidnapped a French granny and are holding her down in your basement and forcing her to make a loaf a day."

He nearly laughed. "Bread and butter, dear," he corrected. "Don't forget that the French also churn exquisite butter."

She laughed and had to hold her stomach. "Could I have some water, actually?" She asked.

He fetched her a glass and started a kettle for tea too.

"Do I need to disembowel Potter for sending you back here sick to your stomach?" He asked.

She shook her head. "No. It was my own fault. I poured the rum. I drank it. Besides, Ginny did send me back here, at least."

He paused at that. "Oh?"

Hermione nodded and caught his eye at last. "She told me I was being stupid," she explained. She looked away suddenly. "You left things alone those three weeks because you knew I'd be back eventually anyway," she said.

He sat down across from her but she was fixated on her crystal glass. It was Waterford. He pulled the glass from her hand gently and squeezed her fingers but she still couldn't bring herself to look at him. "There was that. But also, I was afraid to push too hard. I understood you wanted more time. I didn't. But I understood that you did. And I didn't want to push you away. I knew the Marriage Law was coming. And I needed the door to be open for you when it did."

She closed her eyes. "When did you know?" She asked.

"Blaise wrote me a few—"

"No," she cut him off. "when did you know you wanted to marry me?" She clarified.

"In the minute between when you peed on that stick, and when it turned blue instead of pink, I thought about how Scorpius would be a perfect name for a boy. And that was when I knew."

She finally looked at him. "That was over two months ago."

He nodded. "Right after felt too soon, and then Blaise owled me, and then I tried, and then you tried, and now, here we are." He paused and summoned his own Gryffindor courage. "Why did you say no, Hermione?" He asked. "Do you just need more time? Do you not see this, us, headed the same place I do?"

She shook her head and her hands trembled. "No, I _do_ ," she insisted. "I told you. I wish I could explain it better but I can't. It's everything I want, really. A husband and children. A family. A family with _you_. But I just wasn't ready. I don't know why."

His thumbs rolled over the back of her hands in soothing circles. "We don't have much more time," he said. "Just a little over a month. Until the law takes effect. If you wanted to go to Australia still, I would understand. I could go with you, if you wanted. Or, if you wanted to stay here, we could get married in name but go on living fairly separate lives until you're ready."

She was trembling and she wasn't sure if it was the aftershocks of the alcohol or if she was just overwhelmed. She would put her money on the latter.

"You would always wonder," she said finally.

He gave her a wry smile. "There are worse fates. I'd still be spending the rest of my life with the woman I love. But I won't trap you. I won't force you. You have options. You'd still be choosing me."

She began to cry for the second time that day. "I'm so sorry," she murmured. "I'm so sorry. I do love you. I don't know why… I don't know why I'm not ready yet." It had been tormenting her for months. Even before he had asked. She loved him. She'd be devastated to lose him. She wanted to spend almost all her time with him. But the thought of forever made her panic. She hated that reaction but she couldn't fight her.

He dropped her hand and she knew he was leaving. She'd hear the snap of the door at any second. But then suddenly he was all around her, her face cocooned in his neck and his hands rubbing soft circles on her back.

"It's ok, Hermione," he whispered. "It really is."

"It's not," she cried, her snot and tears mixing into his shirt. "It's not fair to you. You deserve better."

He shook his head. "Fuck what I deserve. This is what I _want_. I'm not a boy. I can suffer a little light rejection. I can be patient."

"I can't let you do that," she whimpered.

"You don't _let me_ do anything," he insisted. "I'm my own person."

Suddenly he was kissing her despite all the snot and tears. "You are such an ugly crier, Granger," he muttered, but he was teasing. "Please marry me."


	8. Epilogue

Hermione woke up at 2:36 in the morning and rolled over to her bedpartner. "Draco," she shook him. "Wake up."

He rolled away from her and made a series of gurgling sounds that didn't sound like any language at all.

She shook his shoulder again. "No," he groaned, finally creating coherent words. "No more sex for you. I need at least four hours of beauty sleep."

She rolled her eyes and shook his shoulder again. " _Draco_."

" _Hermione_ ," he groaned.

He was awake enough. She'd settle for that. "I want to marry you," she told him.

He pulled the pillow over his head. "You will. In the morning."

She pulled his pillow away. "No, you daft prat. I _want_ to marry you."

He sat up suddenly. "What did you say?" He asked, his eyes wide.

"I want to marry you," she repeated.

He brought his hands up to cup her face, his thumbs tracing her jaw.

"Say it again," he asked, all traces of sleep gone from his voice.

"I want to marry you," she said. "I want to _marry_ you. I want to marry _you_." She rolled the words in her mouth. She loved them. Loved him. She had waited and wondered why she didn't, alternated between telling herself that was normal and thinking she was broken and here it was. It had clicked in her heart. She was ready.

He kissed her soundly. "Say it again," he said and she laughed.

" _I want to marry you,"_ she repeated over and over again between kisses.

He rolled over her and kissed her squarely and she repeated it over, and over, and over again.


End file.
